


like spiced wine

by this_is_irksome



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Dark, Bondage, Dark Magnus Bane, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deal with a Devil, Dom Magnus Bane, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Intoxication, M/M, Masturbation, Panties, Politics, Rituals, Sex Magic, Sub Alec Lightwood, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23799967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_irksome/pseuds/this_is_irksome
Summary: “Good,” he praises, because he is benevolent.  “Now, Alexander.”  Magnus reaches out  and catches a drop of wine from Alec’s throat, fingers glistening red before he licks them.  “Tell me just what the Clave needs that is so important, that they sent me you.  And I will consider whether or not I am willing to grant it.”
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 51
Kudos: 506





	like spiced wine

“I really can’t have shadowhunters just barging into my home, uninvited and armed.” Magnus Bane says and the smile that graces his face is all threat. “Strip.”

Alec swallows back both his instinctive protest and the urge to lick his lips and breathe out ‘yes sir’. There is an air of command to Magnus Bane that he was unprepared for. It hits him with the force of blow, winding him. His lungs heave against the cage of his ribs as he bites his lip and settles his breathing. 

He strips methodically. His bow and quiver he had not yet summoned, so they remain pocketed away in another dimension as he shrugs out of his jacket. The leather falls to the floor gracelessly and his fingers catch and stumble on the buttons of his denim shirt. He’s distracted by Bane, by the way Bane watches him. 

He’s seen many things directed his way. Has learned to recognize the dangers and desires of other beings through the look in their eyes.

Yet he’s never been devoured by someone's gaze alone. He feels off footed and unsure. Sweat trickles down his back, making his shirt stick to his spine as he shrugs out of it. The prickling feeling of being hunted makes the fine hairs on his neck stand up and his heart picks up its beat.

It’s preparing him for battle.

But not even his holy and divine training could prepare him for Magnus Bane.

* * *

Magnus waits until the last minute, when fingers are a hair’s breadth away from leather and then he tsks. 

The sound is loud in the quiet room and his shadowhunter pauses from where he’s bent over, looking up through his lashes. Red bitten lips curling into a frown that would look so much nicer around his cock.

“Hands above your waist Alexander.” He commands, stepping closer still. “You don’t want me to feel threatened, do you?”

Alec shakes his head, but there’s something of a scoff that escapes his lips.

“Something to say?” Magnus asks, giving him permission. Alec wisely doesn’t take it. “Good.” He murmurs and presses one hand against the firm muscles of Alec’s stomach, pushing him against the exposed brick of the wall and relishing the hiss it causes.

He unbuttons Alec’s pants first. The metal taps against his nails with a tiny clink that makes Alec’s throat bob in a swallow. 

He whines. A bitten off, high-pitched keen as Magnus unzips him, using just enough pressure to make sure Alec can feel each of the metal teeth parting. He steps back, feigning disinterest as he summons a glass of wine. 

“Drink?” Magnus offers, holding out his own glass. He snaps the fingers of his other hand and watches as Alec’s clothes disappear, his thigh holster safely stowed away in Magnus’ safe. “And be welcome in my home.”

* * *

  
Bane sits first. It could be taken either as a powermove or a gesture of good will. They both know it’s the former. Alec licks his lips again, contemplating his next move. He’s not ashamed of his body, not in the slightest. He’s a weapon, honed and hammered until he’s the deadliest tool he can possibly be. He wields a bow and the Clave wields him, as it commands all shadowhunters.

Yet here and now, Alec wonders what it would feel like to be handled and wielded by a different power.

Magnus sits with the grace of one who knows his own body so well and so intimately that even with all the the years and dedicated training, Alec knows he will be incompetent next to Bane.

“Are you going to stand there, parading yourself like the Clave’s toy soldier or are you going to accept my _generous_ hospitality and make yourself comfortable as a _good_ delegate would?” Long brown fingers, ringed in silver pet the cushion next to him. It’s a small sofa. Barely meant for a couple, let alone for two tenuous allies. 

Alec swallows. He has a choice to make. He doesn’t like his odds.

* * *

Magnus grins, not even bothering to hide his glee and licks the rim of his glass patiently. It does him little harm to wait – _the view is spectacular after all –_ and he wins either way. 

Alexander will either play hard to get and stay standing – his muscles straining, skin glistening in the dim lights and scars highlighted by candle flickers at a parade rest, his cock nestled between his thighs. Or he will sit. Naked and bare and so close that Magnus can touch him, can smell him – or, perhaps, with enough coaxing, _taste_ him.

Magnus can’t lose and he _loves_ it.

“Oh,” he murmurs after he lets the silence stretch on just a moment too long, “am I being remiss in my hospitality? Never let it be said that the High Warlock could not be benevolent. If you’re feeling uncomfortable in your lack of proper attire, let me put you at ease.” He uses magic to undo the buttons of his shirt, lets blue fire chime against his necklaces and stroke down the bare skin of his chest. He watches as Alec’s cock twitches in response. How the muscles of Alec’s jaw clench and his chest jumps as the veins of his arms stand starkly out. 

Alec’s knees shake. 

Magnus _can’t wait._ They haven’t even finished introductions. 

He takes just a few seconds too long, fingers and magic tangling with the laces of his pants and then he undoes them. Not far. Just enough for dark burgundy and gold lace to peek through.

Alec whimpers and Magnus’ ears hungrily harvest the sound from the air.

“So, will you sit? Or stand.” He strokes the cushion next to him once again, fingers tapping gently against the surface. He gambles with himself for a moment and gleefully snatches his own victory as Alec takes a jolting step forward. He’s _shaking_ , Magnus realizes with delight. The muscles of his legs tremble as if barely holding him up, even as he slides carefully down onto the sofa and sits, stiff as a board. His eyes and attention _all_ on Magnus. “Good choice,” Alec swallows, biting his own lip to cut off another whine and Magnus allows it. A small price for what he just learned. 

“Now about that drink.” He says and curls his wrist out, offering the glass. “Not too proud to share with a downworlder, are you Shadowhunter?” 

Magnus isn’t sure what chord he strikes, but it’s clearly one that Alec doesn’t want to be associated with. He surges forward, teeth clacking against crystal as he all but kisses the rim of the glass and then obediently tips his head back, swallowing as Magnus ensures he drinks to _Magnus’_ satisfaction. 

Wine dribbles down the corner of Alec’s lips and down his chin. It stains pale skin as it caresses the underside of Alec’s jaw and follows to linger like a tempting jewel in the hollow of his throat.

Magnus wants to devour him. And he will, eventually. For now he continues to feed Alec wine from a never ending glass, warming him from the inside not just with alcohol but with magic. He pulls back finally and satisfyingly, Alec follows. His tongue chases the taste of Magnus’ magic, pupils blown wide as if he’d just witnessed the glory of one of his lauded angels. Magnus returns the glass to his mouth, presses his lips deliberately in the same place that Alec had drank from and _relishes_ how very caught his prey is.

“Good,” he praises, because he _is_ benevolent. “Now, Alexander.” Magnus reaches out and catches a drop of wine from Alec’s throat, fingers glistening red before he licks them. “Tell me just what the Clave needs that is _so_ important, that they sent me you. And I will consider whether or not I am willing to grant it.” 

* * *

Bane _touches_ him. _Bare skin, calloused fingers, sharp nails against his jugular._ He brushes away a drop of liquid, his tongue claims it and Alec swallows with want.

His tongue is heavy, thick almost with the flavor of the wine and his throat burns for another sip. His belly is warm and his thoughts slow, the warning bells that have been ringing slowly in his mind muddling until their clamour is all but gone. 

Alec sways, catches himself and digs his fingers into his thighs. His fingers brush against his own cock and he freezes. For a moment he had forgotten. He remembers intimately now. How _naked_ he is. How _bare_ and _vulnerable_ . How Bane is _so very_ close to him, his warmth a comfort that Alec aches for.

He’s hard. _He didn’t mean to be._ Somehow, somewhere he lost control. Maybe in the spice of the wine, or maybe it was that simple, forbidden touch. But he takes one last shuddering breath, sends up a blasphemous prayer that he doesn’t leak all over Magnus Bane’s couch and begins to speak.

It’s a simple request. Alec processed it himself. The Clave is finally cleaning up their shit. It’s nearing the second decade of Valentine’s death. Of the Uprising’s downfall. Valentine’s followers who escaped being deruned and executed are starting to feel brave again. The Clave doesn’t like it. They’ve finally nearly finished rebuilding all the burnt bridges from the first time. They won’t stand for another shift in power. Even if that means killing _more_ nephilim. 

“They’re sending envoys, one from each Institute to the adjacent High Warlock to request wards for the surrounding territory.” Alec explains, “to be tied to the Institute, so they can monitor the comings and going of any and all angel-blooded beings.” 

“That _is_ a hefty request.” Bane tells him, dramatically toasting him with the glass and then Bane shifts, legs spreading in a way that makes his thighs stretch. The tempting, dangerous bits of color catch his eye. It’s red. A darker red than the fletchings of his arrow, but similar nonetheless. He wonders if he touches it, what it would feel like. 

He doesn’t. He digs his nails even deeper into his thighs and regrets it immediately. He’s never shied from pain, even when seeking pleasure and his cock pulses in agreement. He can feel his cheeks burn red. His neck is hot and he doesn’t miss the way Bane’s eyes slide slowly down his body. Brown eyes pause, looking at his cock and he swears he sees gold for a moment before Bane smirks mercilessly at him. 

“Tell me, Alexander. What does the Clave offer me, in return for this boon?”

* * *

Magnus _tastes_ victory. He’s laid his trap with words and magic and Alec has signed every line with his silence. Just a bit more and he can _feast._

“They’ve allocated a price to be met for each Institute, based on landmass and efficiency to be translated to the payment of your liking.” Alec tells him, actually relaxing a bit now that they’re seemingly nearing the end of their negotiation. He recites the amount, a generous one, to be sure. For once, the Clave isn’t being stingy, merely frugal. After all, no warlock worth their ichor wouldn’t try to bleed the Clave dry at the slightest chance. 

“Well, then. The only question I have left before we finish is this.” Magnus waits until Alec meets his gaze. Lets his glamour drop and relishes how Alec’s pupils narrow and then blow out, like a black hole in space. “How much are _you,_ worth to your Clave.”

* * *

Alec has never been so blindsided in his life. Not even when Eidolon demons had formed a trap, morphing into shax demons feasting on a mundane who had then shifted and tried to tear out his throat. 

He wonders what it would feel like, to have Bane’s teeth pressed against his throat and even before the thought has fully formed, he knows he’s going to lose.

The question is. Does he give in, or does he fight for the upper-hand.

“You flatter me,” is how he starts and he hopes Bane doesn’t realize how true that is. He’s as flattered as he is stunned and if his cheeks weren’t already on fire, they would be now. 

“You’re a soldier. A good one, to be sure. One of their best. You’re the heir of a prestigious bloodline but a disgraced family name and your parents have more spawn to spare. As the Clave does soldiers. Stop playing these coy little games and tell me Alexander, how much are you worth. Because I’ve named my price. Will the Clave pay it? Do you have a counter offer you’re prepared to make on their behalf? Or will you go back to them to ask how to handle this truly unforeseen turn of events?”

Bane’s voice is still delicious, but oh how his words strike deep. Alec can’t return to his family or his Institute empty handed, The Inquisitor had made it very clear that he was to secure Bane’s help, there was no room for failure in this mission. 

“When this is over, they’ll want me back.” He says, and he means it. Bane knows he means it too, which is why his grin is so terrifying. 

“And they won’t get you.” Bane _promises_ him with a chuckle that is vicious and his next words are cruel. “I plan on _treasuring_ you, Alexander. Which means, when you’re mine. That there is no price that can you take you from me.”

“I-” Alec stutters on his words, wishing he hadn’t drank the wine, that he hadn’t been sent on this mission. That his cock wasn’t hard and aching for Bane’s touch, that his mouth wasn’t dying to drink from Bane’s lips rather than a glass. He knew this was coming he realizes. Maybe not to this degree, but he knew something was going to happen. That something was going to change and that there would be a price paid.

He hadn’t imagined this.

His thoughts nearly take him away. The world is grey for a moment and then it’s gold. Bright, savage gold that swallows him whole and his world recenter's with a weight on his thighs, fingers pulling at his hands and cool leather against his skin.

_Bane is in his lap._

* * *

  
Magnus allows a chuckle at Alexander’s dazed expression. The confusion in his eyes almost earns a coo as Magnus settles astride his thighs. Alec’s legs are strong and long and they’re going to be _oh so lovely_ wrapped around Magnus when he fucks Alec for the first time.

Now though, he guides Alec’s hands to his torso, lets Alec’s fingers tangle on a chain of one of his necklaces and then uses magic to loop that metal around Alec’s wrists. 

“It looks good on you, pretty boy.” He praises and Alec bucks up under him, “but look at that.” Here he tsks his tongue and devastatingly gorgeous hazel eyes blink up at him, wet with tearshine that he can’t wait to taste. “I’ve given you a gift and you haven’t even answered me. No wonder they sent you to me.” He holds Alec’s wrists in place, bound by the necklace and uses his other hand to run fingers through Alec’s chest hair, and tweaking a nipple earns a whine and another roll of Alec’s hips. “So good aren’t you darling. I haven’t even secured what I want and already I’m giving in to you. And this is what you want, isn’t it?” He pulls on the chain of the necklace, encouraging Alec to move his hands down until he presses Alec’s hands against his own cock. Alec makes a desperate, pleading noise and tries to twist his wrists, rolling up again, trying to fuck his fist. 

“Give me what I want.” Magnus murmurs in his ear, words darker and huskier for the magic he’s spending across the room. “And I’ll give you what you want. Do we have a deal?”

Alec screams a yes as he orgasms, magic seals the contract, imprinting on Magnus’ shadowhunters soul in a deal as binding as death. Magnus tugs on Alec’s hair in delight, earning more whimpers and then he has a shadowhunter, _his_ shadowhunter, lurching into him. Trembling and oversensitive and still so delightful.

Magnus shifts, pushing Alec down so that he’s resting on the pillows instead, though still elevated enough that his shadowhunter can see the mess he’s made. 

Magnus is hard, has been for a while and it’s only more obvious now. With Alec’s come streaked across the leather laces of his pants, and darkening the lace of his panties. Alec whines when he sees it, teeth biting into his lips. His wrists are still tied together, still awkwardly gripping his soft cock and Magnus hums, as if he’s considering something. 

“Would you like to be good for me? Now that you’re mine?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy or don't I rather don't really care either way however if you leave bothersome comments I won't be pleased.


End file.
